


Steve vs the Sexy Cyborg

by this_is_how_we_get_ants



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Chuck (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Retail, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Spy!Bucky, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, nerd!steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_how_we_get_ants/pseuds/this_is_how_we_get_ants
Summary: Steve lives a pretty boring life.  He works in retail, lives with his sister, and has just the one friend.  It's fine.  Everything's just fine.But then Steve's former classmate sends him a strange email.  Suddenly everything is not fine.  Everything is so not fine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-o! So I was going through my old stuff and I found this. I love Chuck and Stucky so I did a thing! I'm pretty excited about this so.... Leave a comment if you feel so inclined, and it will 100% make my day:)

“OK, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Steve whispered from his vantage point behind the door.

            “Aye, aye, Cap!” Sam replied.  “The target is in the middle of hostile territory.  We’re going to need to create a diversion and grab it while everyone’s distracted.”

            “Alright, Falcon,” Steve took a deep breath.  “On the count of three: one, two, _three_!”

            “Oh my gosh!  What _is_ that?” A woman exclaimed.

            “What the hell?” A man with retro framed glasses swatted at the air.

            “Prepare to move on the target, Falcon,” Steve instructed.

            Several people were making confused faces and looking around warily.  It was time to go for the big finish.  Steve carefully guided the remote control so that the small piece of electronic equipment towards the purple vase holding a bunch of sticks (which was apparently artful).  He winced before pushing the lever forward and watching the drone speed towards a collision with the aforementioned stick vase.  There was a very satisfying shatter as the vase exploded.  People turned to look, gasping and exclaiming at the sudden cacophony.

            “Now!” Steve commanded.

            “Roger that, Captain!” Sam said.

            Steve bit his lip, waiting with bated breath as he watched Sam slip through the open French doors.  Sam shot him a quick thumbs up before swiping their bounty.  Everything was going according to plan.  Everyone was too focused on the broken vase to notice Sam slipping in and out of their midst.  One last elated grin from Sam, and Steve stood up and pushed his door closed.  Or at least, he tried to.  A small foot with bright red nail polish blocked the door from shutting completely. 

            “Hey, man!  That was awesome!” Sam exclaimed as he tumbled through Steve’s open window.  He looked up when Steve didn’t answer and his jaw formed an O.  “Uh, hey Peggy,” he stuttered.  “Is that a new dress?  Lookin’ good, girl.”

            Peggy frowned as she pushed the door open.  “Care to explain yourselves?” she asked arching one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

            “Um, we were hungry?” Steve shrank back from Peggy’s flashing eyes.

            “And can you tell me _why_ you couldn’t come out of your room like a _normal_ person and grab a slice?  Was it really necessary to sacrifice my vase to your kamikaze drone?”

            Steve and Sam exchanged guilty looks.  “Um, yes?” Steve tried, flashing his best puppy dog eyes at his older sister.

            Peggy huffed, “Oh Steve,” she shook her head in defeat.  “There are some really nice people out there.  You should get out there and mingle, instead of holing up in here playing video games and flying remote control airplanes.  It would do you good to meet some new friends.”  Peggy spared a pointed look for Sam who blanched theatrically.

            “Yeah, the thing is Peggy,” Steve hedged, “I don’t really think those are our kind of people, you know?”

            Peggy’s eyebrows shot up, “Steve,” her cherry red lips pursed dangerously, “You two have a very unhealthy relationship,” she pointed between them before spinning on her heel and marching out of the room.

            It was quiet for a moment, cricket-style quiet, until Sam harrumphed.  “Well.  That’s just plain hurtful,” his eyes took on a faraway look, “So beautiful, but so cruel.”

            “Dream on,” Steve laughed reaching for the box of pizza that Sam had smuggled into his room.

            “Whatever,” Sam grabbed his own slice.  “COD?”

            Steve grinned, “Obviously.”

            “What a bunch of assclowns!” Sam tossed his controller aside.

            Steve dropped back against his comforter with a sigh.  “Our day shall come, my faithful friend.”

            A sharp birdlike cry broke the silence.  Sam jumped before muttering about eagles and patriotism under his breath.  He grabbed Steve’s phone where it had fallen on the floor and looked at the screen.  Steve looked over when Sam let out a low whistle.  “Wow,” Sam shook his head tossing the phone to Steve.

            Steve furrowed his brow.  His home screen had one notification.  _1 New Email from billionairegeniusplayboy@gmail.com._ He looked up at Sam shocked.  “What the hell?”

            Sam shrugged and slid towards the still open window.  He paused to grab a slice of cold pizza before squeezing out into the courtyard.  “See you tomorrow!” he called over his shoulder.

            Steve waved half-heartedly as he continued to stare at his phone.  The screen had gone dark, but he was still seeing the cheerful notification.  It was like the image had been burned into his retinas.  He couldn’t think of a single reason why _Tony Stark_ of all people would be emailing him.  There just weren’t any scenarios that included that plot twist stored in his mind’s made-up movie library. 

            On principle he wanted to just delete the stupid thing without opening it.  Unfortunately Steve was far too curious for his own good.  With a sigh he unlocked his phone and clicked on the notification.  When the email opened there was nothing there.  His screen went completely white, then filled with static.  Really it was just like Stark to email him this crap for shits and giggles after all these years.

            But then the screen changed.  Suddenly it just looked like a normal email screen again.  Until, just as suddenly, a bunch of letters popped up.  Steve read them, feeling increasingly confused.  The message said: _Iron Man fires his superior repulsors.  How do you respond?_   Steve frowned at the script.  He recognized it, of course.  For the second time he was tempted to delete the email and call it a day.  Instead, he typed out the response he knew Stark would have programmed in: _Captain America uses his shield of freedom to deflect the blasts_. 

            The dreaded pinwheel appeared and began swirling.  Steve rolled his eyes, but before he could make any kind of move the screen changed.  Image after image began to flash across the phone’s screen.  They seemed to come faster and faster with no end in sight.  Steve sat, transfixed by the screen in his palm.  In fact he sat watching the slideshow of seemingly random images right up until his alarm clock started blaring the national anthem.  Finally, the images stopped as if they had simply been waiting for the anthem to cue their end. 

            Steve let the phone slip out of his hand as he blinked unseeingly.  He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, the Star Spangled Banner playing brightly in the background.  Eventually he shook his head and rubbed his eyes.  His clock flashed 7:33 AM.  It took a minute before Steve registered that it was _7:33 AM_ , and he was supposed to be at work by 8 o’clock.  Scrambling to his feet, Steve rushed to get dressed only to realize he hadn’t ever changed out of his uniform the night before.  Frowning, he pulled his shirt away and sniffed it.  Deciding it was acceptable, Steve dashed to the bathroom.

            “Where’s the fire?” Peggy joked as Steve tore into the kitchen and pawed through the contents of the fridge. 

            Steve attempted to laugh obligingly, but it came out sounding like more the hysterical cry of a hyena.  He winced as soon as the noise was out of his mouth, glancing at Peggy’s concerned face.  “I’m late!  Love ya sis!” Steve called as he hurried out the front door.

             Steve’s car beeped as he pressed the unlock button.  He slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine while simultaneously wrestling his iced frappe open.  His cell phone cawed at him, and he jumped casting a suspicious look at the screen.  It was simply showing a new text from Sam.  Steve breathed a sigh of relief before backing out and speeding towards the freeway.

            Thankfully, the company cars were _really_ compact.  Steve weaved through the usual morning commuter traffic with relative ease.  If squeezing the wheel so hard your knuckles turned white and emitting a constant noise of vague alarm was considered relative ease.  Horns honked around him, but he ignored them, mostly.  He did apologize to each driver he cut off as he whipped around them.  When he finally arrived at Tech Mecca, he paused to take a few deep breaths and calm his racing pulse. 

            By some miracle, Steve managed to clock in at 8 on the dot.  He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, rolling his head and listening to the cracks from his stiff neck.  Sam was approaching him when he looked up.  Catching Steve’s eye, Sam waved excitedly.  Steve sighed internally, but offered a weak smile for his best friend. 

            “So, last night I had the craziest dream,” Sam said as soon as he was within earshot.  He jumped over the partition into the Brain Gang kiosk. 

            “Oh yeah?” Steve replied, not really paying attention.  Sam was far too chipper and well-rested.  Steve reached under the counter for his iced frappe only to find it drained.  He frowned mournfully at the empty bottle while Sam droned on in the background. 

            He was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice when Sam abruptly stopped talking.  In fact, Steve didn’t look up until the old-school bell on the counter dinged.  Mentally cursing his MIA coworkers, Steve looked up wearily.  A petite woman with red hair that fell in short bouncy curls just below her ears stood smirking at him.  Behind him, Sam made a strangled mewl before jumping off the counter and scurrying away muttering about price checks.

            “Hello, may I help you?” Steve smiled wearily.

            The woman’s eyes glittered with intelligence and a hint of amusement.  “I hope so.”  She produced a small laptop from her purse and placed it firmly on the counter.  “I can’t get this thing to turn on,” she said.

            Steve examined the laptop, “OK, we actually get that a lot from this model.  Turns out they can be kind of touchy,” he reached under the counter for a customer repair request form which he handed to the woman.  “I can definitely fix this for you, but I’m going to need you to fill out this form.”

            The woman nodded, scanning the form before reaching for a pen.  “How soon will it be ready?” she asked.

            Steve glanced at his watch and the repair log taped up on the edge of the counter.  “I might be able to get it done by the end of the day, but more than likely it won’t be ready for pick-up till tomorrow.”

            The woman made a non-committal humming sound.  She dropped the pen back in the mug on top of the counter and held the form out for Steve.  “Well, I’ll look forward to your call,” she said.  There was a whimpering noise behind Steve and he turned to see Sam lurking a few feet away.  Sam awkwardly started coughing and walked away.

            Steve turned back to the woman only to see that she was almost to the exit.  He watched her for a moment, waiting, before he spun around to face Sam.  It seemed that Scott and Skye had magically appeared at their stations in the second he had been looking away.  “Well, look who it is,” he said sarcastically.  “Scott, this one’s yours,” he tapped the laptop.  “I’m going to get another coffee,” he sighed.

            Sam fell into step beside Steve as he made a beeline for the breakroom and the notoriously shitty coffee within.  “I think I’m in love,” Sam breathed.

            “Is that a fact?” Steve replied, pushing open the breakroom door and crossing it as quickly as his unfortunately short legs would allow. 

            “Little man.” Sam put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “Sometimes you meet someone, and you just know.”

            Steve claimed the coffee with a warm feeling of relief spreading through his veins.  He took a deep drink before turning to Sam and rolling his eyes, unimpressed.  “Well, you’re the expert.”

            “Don’t be that way.  Someday your prince will come.  Maybe not today, or tomorrow…” Sam trailed off with a snicker.

            “Shut up, Birdman,” Steve pushed at Sam’s shoulder.  It didn’t even move Sam an inch, but they both ignored it.  They had been best friends long before Sam hit his growth spurt and Steve did not.  The fact that Sam looked like a well-proportioned, attractive young man while Steve looked like a malnourished twelve-year-old was not something they discussed.

            “Did you not see her?  That hair, those lips,” Sam grabbed his chest dramatically, “It’s definitely love.”

            Steve laughed, the caffeine already calming him.  “What was her name?” he asked innocently.

            “Pshaw!” Sam waved a hand dismissively.  “A love like this transcends names.”

            “What about Peggy?” Steve needled.

            Sam stopped, “Why?  Did she say something about me?”

            “Just last night she was confessing her deep love for you,” Steve deadpanned.

            “Aw, screw you man!  You can’t just mess with a man’s emotions like that,” Sam took on a mock-affronted tone.

            “Alright well, I look forward to the invitation to you and No Name’s future wedding,” Steve said as he slipped back into the Brain Gang kiosk. 

            “As you should, my friend,” Sam said as he backed away.

            Steve sighed as he sank down into his seat.  He tapped his fingers absently against the countertop as he opened a browser window on his computer.  Google popped up on his screen and he hesitated with his fingers over the keyboard.  Chewing on his lower lip, Steve typed in the name.  Billions of results instantly appeared.  There were pictures and a bunch of links to entertainment news sites.  Nothing really jumped out at him; it all seemed pretty standard for Tony Stark. 

            “Rogers!  My office, now,” Phil Coulson, manager of Tech Mecca, appeared out of nowhere looking down his nose at Steve before turning towards his office.  Sam grimaced and shrugged as he backed away towards the sales floor.

            Steve drank half of his coffee in one long gulp before trailing after Coulson.  “Yes, sir?” he said when he closed the door behind him.

            “Have a seat, Rogers,” Coulson watched Steve carefully as he lowered himself into the hard plastic chair in front of Coulson’s desk.  Once Steve was seated Coulson continued, “As you may know, but probably don’t, there is an assistant manager position open at Tech Mecca.”

            Steve resisted the urge to squirm.  Coulson was right; he’d had no idea that there was an assistant manager position up for grabs.  Come to think of it, he didn’t remember them ever having had an assistant manager before.  He chose to keep that information to himself, though.  “Sir?”

            “Let’s not beat around the bush, Rogers.  I want you to apply.  Those fools on the sales floor wouldn’t be able to manage even if it was a matter of life or death,” his eyes shifted to look at the Brain Gang desk through his office window.  “Your fellow Brains are smart enough, but let’s face it: their personalities leave them fundamentally unsuited.  Also, I don’t trust them.  There’s something shady happening there,” his eyes narrowed before he turned back to Steve.  “So far there’s only been one applicant: Rumlow.  I don’t like Rumlow, Rogers.”

            Steve tilted his head uncomfortably.  “Why me?” he blurted.

            Coulson leveled him with a stony stare, “For whatever reason, I find you to be competent.  I like you, Rogers.  There aren’t very many people I can say that about.”

            Steve squinted, but nodded as if he understood perfectly.  “Um, OK,” he said.

            “OK?  You’re going to apply?” Coulson questioned.

            “Yeah, I mean, sure,” Steve shrugged.

            The corner of Coulson’s mouth turned down slightly, but he clapped his hands and stood from his chair.  “Don’t let me down, Rogers.”

            “Yes, sir,” Steve said as he scuttled out of Coulson’s office.

            Steve returned to his post behind the Brain Gang counter with his fellow Brainers.  Sky was doing something that looked suspiciously criminal in nature.  Scott was actually working for once, plugging away at the laptop the mysterious redhead had brought in.  “Hey, man,” Scott glanced up, “I can have this done by tonight, easy.  Just need to run some programs on it, which’ll take a while.  You want me to call the owner?”

            “Nah, I’ve got it.  Thanks Scott,” Steve said.

            Scott cleared his throat as Steve tucked the phone under his ear and pulled out the woman’s intake form.  Steve turned around giving Scott a questioning look.  “So, I was wondering if I could duck out early today.  I need to see a man about some cockroaches.”

            Steve wrinkled his nose, “Yeah, whatever.”

            “Excuse me?” a female voice spoke in his ear.

            “Gah!” Steve startled, not realizing he had pressed dial.  He fumbled the phone, knocking over several desk supplies in the process before once again securing the receiver.  “I mean, uh, hello,” he glanced down at the form that was now stained with the dregs of his coffee, “Is this Natasha?”

            “Speaking,” she responded.

            “Ah, OK.  Great, um,” Steve squinted trying to make out the specifics on the form, “Your laptop is going to be ready for you to pick up before the end of the day.  This is Steve, by the way.  Steve from the Brain Gang at Tech Mecca?  Also, we close at 8.  That’s 8 PM.  Um, in the evening.”

            Natasha’s voice sounded like she was smiling, “I remember you, Steve.  I’ll be in around four-ish if that works?”

            “It’s a date,” Steve said.  “Not that kind of date, though.  Just a date in the sense that it is a set appointment, meeting, um…  I’ll see you later, ma’am,” Steve shook his head as he hung up the phone.

            When he turned around Scott and Sky were watching him.  Sky started slow clapping and Scott smirked, “That was spectacular, and by spectacular I mean incredibly awkward and painful to listen to.”

            “Haha,” Steve replied flatly.  “Get back to work.”

            Sky rolled her eyes and snapped her gum before pulling out her cell phone and plugging in her earbuds.  Scott saluted Steve mockingly and spun around on his chair.  Steve seriously regretted the day that Scott had acquired a chair with wheels; although, he did enjoy the after-hours chair races.  He was, after all the reigning champion.

^

            Steve bobbed his head along with the music from his earbuds.  He had plugged in his favorite Pandora station, big band music from the 40’s.  No one, aside from Peggy, knew about his secret love for the early twentieth century.  Once a year, the two of them would pop popcorn and curl up to watch Casablanca.  Even though he’d seen it a million times it still always managed to hit him right in the feels. 

              “Ahem.”

            “Oh my God!” Steve shouted, directly in Natasha-of-the-newly-repaired-laptop’s face.

            Natasha arched her eyebrows, Steve paused to admire them.  They were on par with Peggy’s meticulously groomed brows.  She quirked her lips at him, “I’m sorry; I knocked, but the door was open.”

            “No, um, no,” Steve flailed around bumping into every single thing he possibly could as he cast around for Natasha’s laptop and invoice.  “Here it is!” He triumphantly lifted the laptop, holding it like Rafiki held Simba in The Lion King.

            Natasha’s eyes tracked his movements very carefully, like she was ready to catch the laptop as soon as Steve inevitably dropped it.  He blushed and lowered the laptop to the counter.  “OK, so if you can just sign this invoice you’re total is right there,” Steve pointed.

            Natasha nodded, producing a shiny credit card out of nowhere and signing the paper with a flourish.  Steve hurried to run the card.  Naturally, the printer decided to be slower than a slug and tortoise race.  Behind him Steve could hear Scott snorting at something Sky was whispering to him.  He drummed his fingers on the counter smiling awkwardly at Natasha who remained unfazed.

            “So, Steve, I have a question for you,” she said suddenly.

            “Steve’s great at questions,” Sam was suddenly leaning against the counter, watching Natasha with moony-eyes. 

            Natasha glanced at Sam skeptically before turning her attention back to Steve, “I’m new in town, just started a new job,” she smiled in a manner that Steve would tentatively label suggestive.  “Any chance a girl could get you to show her around town?”

            Steve burst into a spontaneous round of coughing while Sam made an indignant sound beside him.  Natasha’s face took on a hint of concern as Steve’s reddening face.  Sam came to the rescue, brandishing Steve’s inhaler.  Gratefully, Steve snatched the inhaler and took a hit instantly relaxing.

            “Are you alright?” Natasha asked.

            “Yup,” Steve tried to will the pink staining his cheeks to disappear.  “Asthma, it acts up on me from time to time.”

            “Really?” Natasha frowned sympathetically, “That must be hard.”

            Steve waved a hand glibly, “I’m used to it.  Um, anyway, um sorry I think I interrupted you.”

            “Right,” Natasha visibly changed tracks with a soft smile.  “I was asking you to show me around town.”

            “Great.  OK.” Steve rapped his fists against the counter.  He cast a desperate look in Sam’s direction.

            Sam, thankfully, caught on and jumped in, “Actually, Steve here is our team Captain for trivia night at Red Skull’s every Thursday.  You should join us.  We could always use bright new minds.”

            Natasha seemed to consider before slowly nodding, “What kind of trivia?”

            Steve and Sam exchanged a look, both speaking at the same time.  “Stuff,” Steve said vaguely at the same time Sam said, “Culture.”  Scott spoke up a beat after them, “Movies.  It’s about movies.”

            “Cool,” Natasha chuckled, “Sounds fun,” she looked up at Steve, “What time should I pick you up?  My place is kind of hard to find.”

            Steve blinked stupidly.  “Um, trivia starts at 9, so I guess 8:15?”

            “Perfect,” Natasha’s smile widened.  She pushed her phone across the counter and Steve looked down to see a new contact profile with his name at the top.  Natasha raised a brow at him in invitation and Steve typed his number into the phone feeling slightly dazed.  He slid the phone back to Natasha and she scanned over the information before _winking_ at Steve and sashaying out of the store.

            “And it’s the short asthmatic man child for the win,” Scott used his sports announcer voice.

            “She’s hot, Rogers,” Skye said matter-of-factly.  “There’s no way you’re not going to screw this up majorly.”

            “Thanks guys.  I really feel the love,” Steve said.  “It’s not even a date, and you know it.”

            “Does she know that?” Skye asked.  “Cuz I’m pretty sure that was a date that you just agreed to, Stevie-boo.”

            “Ha!”  Scott pointed at Steve.  “You heartbreaking rascal!”

            Steve blushed, “Shut up.”

            “I am coming over tonight, in case that was ever in question,” Sam said.  “This is gonna be awe- _some_!” he skipped away from the Brain Gang counter.  Steve dropped his head into his hands.  There was no way this was going to be anything, but a disaster.  Did he just agree to go on a date with a customer?  Natasha was very attractive, but she wasn’t really Steve’s type.  Thank God it was going to be a group thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha pulled up promptly at 8:15.  Peggy watched Steve curiously as he rushed around, looking for his keys before dangling them from her finger.  He huffed at her, snatching the keys.  She smiled serenely and placed a bookmark in her book.  “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

            Steve shrugged. “It’s trivia night.  Just like every other Thursday night.”

            Peggy tilted her head at him, silently conveying her knowledge that it was not ‘just like every other Thursday night’.  Steve just made a frustrated sound and turned away.  “I’m going now.”.

            “Love you, little brother!” Peggy trilled as he shut the door.

            Steve ambled to the black sports car purring beside the curb.  He dropped into the passenger seat, registering the softness of the leather.  Natasha sat behind the wheel, eyeing him with a faint smile.  “Good evening, Steve.”

            “Oh!  Right, yes.  Hi,” he replied as he pulled his seatbelt into place.

            Natasha looked like she wanted to laugh, but she simply shifted the car and sped away from the curb.  Steve’s body was plastered back against his seat by the force of her acceleration.  She drove like a professional stunt driver the whole way to the bar.  When they stopped Steve staggered out of the car, feeling a little unsteady.  He waited for Natasha to get out and lock up.  She sidled up to him and took his arm in her hand.

            As soon as they stepped through the door Sam was waving like a man stranded alone on a desert island.  Scott and Skye were seated at the table with Sam and watched him with expressions of concern and disappointment respectively.  Steve brightened, waving back at his friends as he and Natasha wove through the crowd to take the two remaining seats.  Sam slid Steve his favorite beer and offered one to Natasha, as well.  She accepted the drink, and clinked her bottle with Steve’s before taking a sip.

            “So you do this every week?” Natasha asked, shrugging out of her leather jacket.

            “For the last five years,” Sam announced proudly.

            “Speak for yourself, nerd,” Skye scoffed.  She did not, however, offer up a timeline of her own.

            “I don’t know if I’ll be very good,” Natasha said.

            Steve tried to smile reassuringly. “You’ll be fine.”

            Natasha tilted her head and took another swig of from her beer.  “This is good.” She leaned towards Steve indicating her bottle.

            Steve nodded, grinning stiffly, “It’s my favorite, actually.”

            “It’s time!” Sam hissed, rubbing his hands together maniacally.

            “Alright nerds.”  The host stepped onto the small platform they called a stage.  “It’s spy night, so prepare to answer the tough questions about Bond, Bourne, and all the babes.”  The crowd laughed good-naturedly. 

            Natasha was surprisingly good.  She knew more about Sean Connery then Steve knew about his own mother.  Sam seemed to be falling harder with every right answer.  Even Skye looked grudgingly impressed.  Steve was happy enough to sit back and enjoy the show as Scott took up a personal crusade to outplay Natasha.  He smiled as Natasha won them another hundred points on a steal before sliding off his stool to go to the bathroom.

            Red Skull’s was not known for its stunning décor, especially not in the men’s bathroom.  Steve squinted in the barely-there light.  He splashed some water on his face before exiting the small room.  Of course, being the extremely coordinated individual that he was, Steve ran straight into someone.  Or, to be more specific, Steve ran straight into someone’s disturbingly hard chest.

            “I’m so sorry,” he said.  Steve looked up to offer an apologetic smile.  The man glared at him, and Steve’s smile disappeared.  To say that the man was intimidating would be an understatement.  Steve blanched and clumsily angled himself around the large man.  He looked back once just to make sure the guy wasn’t following him.  Much to his relief, the man was facing away from him.  Steve sighed in relief about to turn away again when his eyes caught on some ink just above the man’s collar that was suddenly illuminated by the light from the women’s bathroom as a very intoxicated blonde girl exited. 

            A strange wave of dizziness swept over Steve, and he stumbled against the wall.  It felt like the blood was rushing in his head, like he’d stood up too quickly.  Steve pressed a palm against his forehead, and squeezed his eyes shut.  The moment he closed his eyes, Steve was assaulted by a barrage of images and text tumbling into his brain like an avalanche.  He gasped as the sensation faded as abruptly as it had come.  His brain was absolutely sure that the man he had just seen was a mercenary who had been known to occasionally freelance for shadowy government organizations.  Steve shook his head; he had officially seen too much TV.

            “You OK, Steve?”  Scott asked when Steve returned to his seat.

            “Um, I actually don’t feel so good,” Steve said, rubbing at his forehead roughly. 

            Natasha was immediately focused on him.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes running over Steve.

            Steve shook his head slightly, feeling unsteady and unsettled.  “It’s nothing serious.  I just have a headache.”

            Sam looked up in concern. “Is it a migraine?” he asked, joining Natasha in studying Steve for apparent signs of distress.

            “No, it’s not a migraine,” Steve said.  “I probably just had a little too much to drink.” He cast a doubtful glance at the single beer bottle at his spot.

            Sam looked unconvinced, but he didn’t argue.  Scott on the other hand spoke up, “You should go home, dude.  You’re looking pretty pale.”

            Natasha agreed, “I can drive you.”  She was already pulling on her jacket and producing her keys.

            Steve wanted to argue, but he felt so _weird_ that he simply stood and followed Natasha out of the bar after a round of goodbyes.  When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Steve inhaled deeply.  The fresh air helped, but only just barely.  He allowed Natasha to open his door for him, though normally he would have protested vehemently.  Natasha started the car and whipped out of her parking spot onto the street.  She seemed tense, her eyes flicking around in a set rotation.  Too tired to care, Steve leaned back against the luxurious upholstery.

            It was entirely possible that he had fallen asleep in a stranger’s car.  Steve was jolted awake by the feeling of something impacting the bumper of Natasha’s car.  His eyes popped open, turning to see Natasha glaring at whatever she was seeing in her rearview mirror.  Her hand gripped the gear shift, moving it as necessary.  He lurched forward with the force of another hit to the rear bumper.

            “What the hell?” His voice came out much higher pitched than he would have liked.

            Natasha glanced at him sharply before returning her focus to their pursuer.  “Steve.”  She pulled something out of her pocket and tossed it to him.  “Is this your only copy?”

            Steve groped around in the dark until his hands curled around an object he instantly recognized as his phone.  “How did you get this?” he gasped.

            “Steve, these men are after you.  You have something very important, and they want it.”

            “What?” Steve squeaked.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

            “Tony Stark,” Natasha said.

            “ _Tony Stark_?  What does he have to do with anything?  What the hell is this?  Who _are_ you?” Steve’s questions bubbled out of his mouth without filtering.

            “I work for the government, Steve.  Tell me, have you been in contact with Tony Stark recently?” She cursed under her breath as she swerved to dodge another impact.

            “What?  Contact?  Tony and I aren’t exactly Christmas card buddies, if you know what I mean.”

            “Think, Steve!” Natasha commanded.  “We traced his last email to your phone.  What did he send you?”

            Steve’s heart stopped for a second as blood rushed in his ears.  “Oh my God,” he ran his hands through his hair, “I got an email from him last night, and I thought it was weird.  I mean, I haven’t heard from the guy in years!  I knew I shouldn’t have opened it!”

            “Focus, Steve!” Natasha snapped.  “What did the email say?”

            “Um, OK.” Steve closed his eyes, thinking back to the night when he’d received that stupid email.  “It had a question, something from a game we used to play back in the day,” Steve said.

            “Is that it?” Natasha questioned.

            “Um, no,” Steve hesitated as he recalled the series of never-ending images.  “There were pictures.  God, there were so many pictures.”

            “There were pictures?” Natasha stared at him.  “And you saw them?  You saw all of the pictures?”

            “ _Yes_!” Steve replied, his voice veering into hysterical territory.  “It played for hours.  I didn’t even realize any time had passed until my alarm clock went off the next morning.  What were those pictures?”

            “Relax, Steve.” Natasha’s tense voice made her instructions far less effective.  She tapped her ear and suddenly she was saying things like ‘hostiles’, ‘extraction’, and ‘asset’.  When she tapped her ear again she turned to Steve, “Hold on, I’m gonna get out us out of here.”

            Steve didn’t even have time to formulate a response before the brakes of the car were screaming and they were spinning wildly- the unpleasant smell of burnt rubber filled his nose.  Before the car had even stopped spinning, Natasha was holding down the gas as they zoomed in the opposite direction from their pursuers.   There was no air in Steve’s lungs, and he realized belatedly that he was on the verge of having an asthma attack.  His inhaler felt heavy in the pocket of his jeans, but he couldn’t move- whether out of fear or from the impending attack he couldn't say.  

            Natasha was busy driving _very_ erratically.  The car adjusted with minimal protest to her constant changes in direction.  Still, he could see the looming SUV that was following them.  Cursing in what sounded like a foreign language, Natasha whipped the wheel to the left until they were flying backwards down an alley.  Steve jumped when the rearview mirror on his side snapped off against a dumpster.  His chest was starting to feel tight, and he cast a desperate glance in Natasha’s direction.

            “Steve, when I count to three I want you to open your door,” Natasha directed.  “Steve?” She spared a glance in his direction.  “Dammit!” she hissed.  Steve watched Natasha press some buttons on the dash and adjust the gearshift before she was in his lap reaching around for the inhaler.  He managed to guide her hand to the right pocket and she yanked it free of his jeans before shoving it in his face.  With her help, Steve took a deep breath.  Immediate relief flooded through Steve as his lungs began to come unclenched again. 

            He was about to thank Natasha when he realized that the car was still barreling along.  That would have been fine except for two things.  First: no one was driving the car, seeing as how Natasha was currently in his lap.  Second, the car was on a direct collision course with a very solid looking brick building.  Steve was glad he could breathe again because he felt the sudden need to scream as loudly as possible.

            Natasha was moving around and suddenly his door was open and they were rolling out of the car onto the unforgiving asphalt.  Steve would have just remained in a ball on the ground if Natasha hadn’t drug him to his feet and pulled him along behind her as she ran.  There was a loud crash, the sound of metal rending and glass shattering, less than a minute later.  It did not escape Steve that he was just in the car that had just met an untimely end behind them.  Hands shaking, he managed another hit from his inhaler.

            He heard the sound of brakes screeching, and then he heard the sound of gunfire.  There was no point in denying that he screamed like a little girl.  Few people could say they wouldn’t have done the same thing in his position.  At least, few people that he knew.  Natasha had magically produced a gun from somewhere on her person and was returning cover fire as she pushed Steve down another alley.  Normally, he would have gagged at the heavy odor of urine that hung in the air, but tonight he simply grabbed for the fire escape that Natasha pointed out.  Steve had never had occasion to climb a dilapidated fire escape on the side of what he would guess to be a condemned crack-house before.  He was experiencing all kinds of firsts.

            His fingers burned against the rough texture of the rust as he struggled to reach the top.  Behind him he could feel Natasha’s weight on the rickety stairs.  He pulled at the last surge of energy he had buried deep inside his body to swing himself onto the roof.  Natasha popped up a few seconds later, gun pointed downward towards their pursuers.  But as Steve lay panting in a heap on the roof, he saw an access door slowly open.  First there was a gun, then a body, and finally a face, all of which formed a man who left Steve speechless.

            “Nnn-,” he struggled to form words.  “Nat!” he rasped.

            The man was advancing towards them, and Steve was pretty sure that he was hallucinating on top of everything else.  That was the only explanation he could think of for why one of the man’s arms appeared to be made of shiny metal.  This was give it ended - hallucinating sexy cyborgs. Natasha heard him and spun around.  She froze, eyes narrowing dangerously when she caught sight of the man.  Steve waited tensely on his stomach as the two stared each other down across the few feet that remained between them.  A surge of gratitude and affection swelled in his heart when Natasha maneuvered so that she was blocking him.

            “Your men are all dead, Barnes.  I’d say it’s time to cut your losses and run,” Natasha said coldly.

            The man, Barnes, barked out a single laugh.  “You wish, Widow.” He replied.  “Why don’t you just step aside, so I can finish this?”

            Natasha sneered, or at least that’s what Steve pictured since he couldn’t see her face from his position.  “I’ve got an extraction team tracking my location as we speak.  They should be landing any second.  You really want to chance it, Barnes?”

            “I like my odds; even against the famous Black Widow,” the man replied.  He shifted, and Steve’s eye caught on the fluid movements of the plates shifting in his metal arm.  His gaze caught on the red star on his bicep.

            Steve staggered to the side, tugging his hands out of his pockets to hold his head.  He was assaulted with a cache of information about the agent known as Winter Soldier.  It was almost too much.  The image of this strange man on the battlefield with a bloody puddle where his left arm should have been was enough to make Steve’s stomach lurch unpleasantly.  He was pulled from the visions when he fell to his knees, heaving and gasping.

            “What the fuck’s wrong with him?”

            “Steve?”  Natasha didn’t take her eyes or her gun off of Barnes.  “Are you okay?”

            Steve wiped at his mouth, willing the world to stop spinning.  “Fine.”

            “What happened?  He have some kind of spell or something?” Barnes asked.

            “No. It’s- I,” he stammered.  “I- you- Winter Soldier,” he finished lamely.

            “What the hell?” Barnes seamlessly transitioned his gun so it pointed at Steve.

            Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Steve.  “Has this happened before?” she asked.

            Steve hesitated for a long moment.  “Once, yeah,” he admitted.  “There was a guy outside the bathroom, and when I saw the tattoo on his neck I got really dizzy and suddenly there was all this information flashing through my brain.  I’d never seen that guy before in my life, but somehow I knew that he was a mercenary!  I don’t know any mercenaries!”

            “ _No_.” Barnes had moved closer and was now staring down at Steve incredulously. 

            Natasha swung her gun back towards him, but he just placed a palm over the barrel and pushed it down.  With a metal hand.  The man actually had a metal hand!  This was just getting out of control.  Steve didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring.  Who the hell did that?  People didn’t just put their hands over the barrels of loaded guns!  The world did not work that way.

            “It’s all in his head?” Barnes glowered at Steve who refused to cower no matter how much his body encouraged it.

            Natasha exhaled sharply.  “Stark sent him an email, and he opened it.  He said he saw a bunch of pictures.”  She pursed her lips. 

            “Are you kidding me?” Barnes threw his hands up in the air, waving his gun haphazardly over his head.  “I’m calling HQ,” he muttered before turning away.

            Natasha extended a hand to Steve and helped him to his feet.  “It’s going to be OK, Steve.” She smiled at him, and against his better judgement, Steve believed her.

            Steve waited dutifully at Natasha’s side as the Barnes paced around the roof talking heatedly with someone on the phone.  Although Steve couldn’t hear the words, he got an idea of how the conversation was going based on the excessive gesturing from Barnes.  Based on the aforementioned gestures, Steve got the feeling Barnes was not pleased with whatever he was hearing.  Several times he caught the man glaring suspiciously at him.  He was quite good at being intimidating, and Steve noticed himself gradually inching behind Natasha.

            Finally Barnes ended his conversation with an emphatic poke of his thumb.  Steve got the feeling that Barnes probably missed the satisfaction of snapping a flip phone shut.  Barnes stalked towards Steve and Natasha with a pronounced frown pulling down his lips.  He stopped short in front of them and continued to glare silently.  Natasha said something that Steve didn’t quite catch before stepping away with Barnes to talk.

            Steve watched the two of them retreat a few feet away from him.  There was no chance he would be able to hear what they were saying; his hearing was not that great.  He felt like a small child waiting to hear his punishment from his parents.  Probably, Steve thought, he would not want to know what kind of punishment Barnes and Natasha would cook up.  As if to emphasize his point, Barnes made a rather frightening face at Natasha who didn’t so much as flinch.

            It was interesting to see the two of them together.  Natasha was petite and lithe, oozing sex appeal that verged on danger.  Barnes was an imposing figure what with the metal hand and permanent scowl.  Although, Steve had to admit he wasn’t terrible to look at.  He moved with a sort of swagger that Steve found very… interesting.  Both of them had the eyes of people with far too many secrets.  As he carried out his mini evaluation, the two turned to him and began walking back.

            “Steve, I need to make a quick call.  James will stay with you, OK?”  Natasha smirked at Steve’s alarmed expression.  “He won’t do anything.  I promise.”

            Steve’s eyes cut to Barnes, and he wasn’t too sure that he believed Natasha’s assurances.  Nonetheless, he remained where he stood as Natasha sauntered off.  Barnes- _James_ \- was looking off at an unspecified point on the horizon with stormy eyes.  He seemed to sense Steve’s gaze because suddenly those stormy eyes were focused on Steve.  It was more than a little disconcerting, but not necessarily unpleasant.

            _“I believe I can fly!”_ Steve jumped at the unexpected sound.  It took him a full minute to recognize Sam’s ringtone coming from his phone.  Hearing the sound in his current situation was jarring.  Suddenly it hit him that this was all real.  He wasn’t having some weirdly detailed dream.  No, he was actually sitting on a crackhouse roof with the most simultaneously handsome and terrifying man he had ever encountered.  A few feet away, a government agent was talking with her bosses about _him_.

            Shakily, he managed to extract his phone and stared at the screen.  The screen was filled with the image of Sam in his air force uniform, grinning proudly into the camera.  He glanced up to see James staring at the phone in his hand with a look of pure consternation.  Steve forced his thumb to accept the call and held it up to his ear with a trembling hand. 

            “Dude!” Sam’s voice was startlingly loud and clear in his ear.  “Are you OK?  I’ve been texting you like a needy girlfriend!”

            Steve laughed; the sound nervous and relieved at the same time.  “Sorry, Sam,” he said.  “I guess my head’s not really in the game.”

            “Uh-huh.  OK, little man,” he said.  “Your headache hasn’t gone away?  Are you sure it’s not a migraine?  Do you want me to come over?”

            “No!” Steve winced at the vehemence in his response.  “Sorry.  I just, Peggy’s sleeping, and I’m really tired, too.”  He felt dirty, lying to Sam.

            Sam hesitated, the moment of silence becoming awkward with a weird tenseness.  “OK.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

            Steve sighed in relief, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”  He ended the call and looked up to find Natasha had joined James and both were watching him.  “So, what’s the verdict?” Steve tried to sound light, but it didn’t work.

            Natasha offered him a hand once again.  This time Steve didn’t give much assistance in pulling himself up.  Not that it really mattered; he was pretty sure Natasha could hurl him to the next roof top if she wanted to.  She smiled, reminding Steve of a Sphinx, as she released his hand.  “I’m going to take you home now,” she said.

            “Really?”  Steve glanced suspiciously between Natasha and James.

            “Really,” Natasha replied, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “We’ll talk more tomorrow, Steve.  I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

            Steve laughed slightly hysterically, “More like a lifetime.”

            “Come on,” Natasha guided him along.  “Let’s get you home to your sister.”

            Steve wasn’t too tired to notice the mention of Peggy.  He was too tired to get into it, though.  The CIA, NSA, Homeland Security, Department of the Treasury: whatever these two were, wouldn’t stand a chance against the force of nature that was Peggy.  Besides, he should probably just assume that Natasha and James knew every single detail about him and his life thus far.  Tomorrow he could dwell on the unsettling sensation that elicited.  Now, tonight, he was going to let Natasha lead him to the car that James had abandoned earlier in their chase.  James trailed along behind them, but he didn’t get in the car; he simply disappeared in between the crack-house and the vehicle.  James was another thing Steve would think about tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

            When Steve woke, the first thing he registered was the pain.  His head pounded his throat ached; even his eyeballs throbbed.  Basically he felt like roadkill on the 405.  He should have known, and part of him probably had, that there would be hell to pay today.  After all, his body was not accustomed to racing around in the dead of night with secret agents.  Just thinking about the previous night made him groan. 

            He went through the morning routine like a zombie.  When he appeared in the kitchen, Peggy was seated at the island with a cup of coffee.  She looked up at him, her face immediately morphing into a mask of concern.  No doubt, Steve looked as bad as he felt.  Once again he cursed Tony Stark and whatever he’d sent Steve in that stupid email that he never should have opened.

            “Hey,” Steve sighed as he peeled a banana and dug out an iced frappe from the fridge. 

            “I would say good morning, but you look like hell,” Peggy observed.

             “I’m fine.”

            Peggy pinned him with her big sister look, “Uh-huh.”

            “Whatever, Peggy,” Steve said, irritation bleeding into his words.  “I said I’m fine.  I’ll see you tonight.”  He didn’t wait for Peggy to say anything before he was out the door.

^

            “Wow.  You look _rough_ ,” Sam said as Steve tossed his bag into his breakroom locker.

            “Thanks,” Steve replied sarcastically.                            

            “Anytime!” Sam grinned.  “Seriously though,” his tone changed, “Are you good?”

            Steve shrugged as they walked back out to the sales floor together.  “I’ll live.  Probably.”

            “Rogers!  My office,” Coulson called across the store.

            Steve waved to Sam and headed to Coulson’s office.  He shut the door carefully behind him, trying not to slam it not only for Coulson’s mood but his own aching head.  “What do you need, sir?” he asked as he turned to face Coulson. 

            He froze when he saw the familiar silhouette seated in one of the two chairs across from Coulson’s desk.

            “Sit, Rogers,” Coulson commanded.

            Steve complied wordlessly, fighting his every instinct to keep from staring at James Barnes.  Internally, he was panicking at the unexpected presence.  “Sir?” he managed.

            “This is James,” Coulson waved in James’s general direction.  “He’s the newest Tech Mecca team member, and you’re in charge of training him.  Impress me Rogers,” Coulson stared Steve down with an uncomfortable level of intensity.

            “Um, OK,” Steve faltered.  “I mean, I’m on it, sir.”

            Coulson nodded.  “Welcome to Tech Mecca, James.  Steve is going to be your handler during your introductory period.  Dismissed,” Coulson turned his attention to his computer screen.

            Steve rose first, holding the door open for James.  He felt acutely aware of his body and movements as they walked across the store to the Brain Gang counter.  Even though there was hardly anyone in the store, Steve still felt like he was under a spotlight in front of a sold-out crowd.  James swaggered along next to him like he hadn’t a care in the world.  

            Scott and Skye stared expectantly at Steve as he led James into their kiosk.  Steve sighed before gesturing to James, “Guys this is James.  He’s new.  James, meet Scott and Skye.”

            James shook hands with Scott and met Skye’s appreciative stare with a blank, unimpressed expression.  He then turned to Steve expectantly.  Before Steve could think of his next move, Sam appeared leaning over the counter.  “Is that fresh blood I smell?”

            “Sam, this is James,” Steve announced, “And James, this is Sam.  He works on the sales floor, so you’ll be working together a lot.”

            Sam presented his hand to James who shook it unenthusiastically.  “Nice to meet you, James,” Sam smiled. 

            James grunted. 

            Steve couldn’t help but stare at James’s left arm.  Last night it had been gleaming metal- made from some alloy that Steve had never heard of before.  Today it was flesh.  During the surprise data dump about the Winter Soldier’s arm last night, there had been a diagram of some kind of cloaking material.  Seeing it in real life, blending so seamlessly was still slightly unsettling.  The puddle of blood flashed in his mind, and Steve turned away feeling slightly ill.

            “Steve, you got a minute?” Sam asked.

            “Yeah,” Steve answered a little too quickly, earning him a slight glare from James.  “Uh, Scott, why don’t you explain the customer forms to James?”

            “Your wish is my command.” Scott mock-saluted as he wheeled around to corner James.

            Steve hurried out from behind the counter and practically sprinted across the store to the home theater room.  Sam waited until the door closed behind them before raising his brows, “What’s up with that dude?”

            Steve sighed, flopping against the couch.  “New guy Phil’s making me train.”

            Sam sat beside Steve, “He seems like a real go-getter.”

            Steve snorted.

            “You doing OK, Cap?” Sam nudged Steve’s shoulder.

            He wished that he could tell Sam everything that had happened since he’d opened Stark’s cursed message.  Instead, he tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut.  Sam didn’t push him, remaining quietly at Steve’s side.

^

            “So, you want to tell me what you’re really doing here?” Steve asked when he and James were alone behind the Brain Gang counter.  Scott had left on a home repair job, and Skye was taking one of her numerous un-sanctioned breaks.

            “I’m here as the newest member of the Tech Mecca sales team,” James deadpanned.

            “Uh-huh,” Steve nodded, “Care to tell me what qualifies you for the job?”

            James cocked his head, regarding Steve thoughtfully before answering, “Nope.”

            Steve was about to make a really witty comeback, but the cheerful ding of the bell drew him away.  “Hello, welcome to-,” Steve broke off.  “Oh, it’s you.”

            Natasha smirked, “Wow, thanks.  You really know how to make a girl feel special,” she said.

            “Um, sorry,” Steve blushed.  Behind him, James snorted audibly.

            “Forgiven,” Natasha replied.  “Anyway, I came by to ask what you’re doing tonight.”

            Steve just blinked at her.  “Huh?”

            Natasha rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We need to establish our cover, Steve.”

            “Um, OK?”

            “That means we need to make people believe that you and I are a couple,” she clarified.

            Steve’s mouth dropped open, and he rushed to shut it.  “Oh, _oh_!”

            Natasha smiled. “I’ll come by your place around eight?”

            “Er-”

            Natasha’s phone began to ring.  She shot Steve an apologetic look and mouthed ‘see you later’ before pressing the phone to her ear and turning towards the exit.

            As soon as Natasha left Sam was standing in her place.  “What was Nat doing here?” he asked.

            “ _Nat_?” Steve repeated.

            “ _Natasha_ ,” Sam huffed. 

            “Oh, Natasha,” Steve stalled, “She was, um, she was here.  Just now, that is.”  He scratched at the back of his neck, casting around for a distraction.  “It’s a little toasty in here, isn’t it?”

            “Not really,” Sam looked at Steve strangely.  “Are you OK, Cap?  Maybe you need some water or just need to sit down?  Did you get any sleep last night?”

            Steve swatted Sam away when he tried to feel Steve’s forehead.  “Stop it!  I’m fine, OK?”

            “He’s got a date tonight,” James piped up.

            “You _what_?” Sam smacked Steve’s shoulder a little harder than strictly necessary.  “Who’s the lucky schmuck?”

            “Natasha,” James butted in before Steve could formulate a response.

            Sam’s eyebrows nearly shot off the top of his head.  A chuckle bubbled out before he doubled over laughing. 

            “Wilson!  Stop chatting up your boy and get back to work!” Coulson snapped as he marched past.

            “We’re talking about this later,” he poked Steve’s chest before smiling at Coulson and heading towards the large appliances where a couple of moms with strollers were eyeing dishwashers.

            “Whoops,” James said, “I guess you forgot to get your _boy’s_ approval,” he snickered, repeating Coulson’s word choice.

            “You,” Steve pointed angrily at James, jabbing his finger several times as he tried to think of a way to finish his statement.  In the end, he just narrowed his eyes and stomped away to get a coffee from the breakroom.

            “Excuse me,” a man reached out and tapped Steve’s shoulder as he was passing by.

            Steve stopped, internally cursing retail customers everywhere, before flashing his best customer service smile.  “Yes?”

            The man smiled back, although it was an oily and unpleasant expression on his face.  He lowered his hand and something metallic glinted in the fluorescent overhead lights.  Steve’s attention flew to what appeared to be a medical alert bracelet.  No sooner did he clap eyes on it then he was overcome by that increasingly familiar dizziness.  He groaned unwittingly as the assault of information about the man overwhelmed him.  When it was over, he was suddenly aware that he was standing with a former hitman known inexplicably as ‘The Fat Lady’. 

            “Are you OK, pal?” the man leaned down to peer at Steve.

            “Mah,” Steve gasped.  “I’m fine, fine.  Actually, you know what?  I’m so sorry, but I need to-,” Steve didn’t finish, lurching away from The Fat Lady as quickly as he could manage.  When he was finally in the breakroom he slid down against the floor, resting his head between his knees.  He took several deep breaths, trying to untangle the mess of thoughts racing through his brain.

            “What happened?” James’s gruff voice startled Steve.

            “Gah!” Steve nearly jumped out of his skin, “Where did you _come_ from?” 

            James ignored him. “What did you see?”

            “Nothing much,” Steve said acerbically, “Just that the guy out there is a _hitman_!  Oh, and did I mention the part where he’s called _The Fat Lady_?  What the hell is happening?”

            James rocked back on his heels.  “The Fat Lady?  You’re sure?”

            Steve scowled, “Gee, I don’t know.  I mean, it’s not like that’s a very distinctive name.  Maybe it was Flat Lady?”

            James made an unamused face.  “No one likes a smart-ass, Rogers.”

            “‘ _No one likes a smart-ass, Rogers,’_ ” Steve imitated in a nasally voice when James disappeared through the breakroom door.  “Hey, by the way, are you OK?  That was probably kind of traumatic for you.  Thanks for asking, James.  I’m actually a little shaken,” Steve acted out an entire conversation before he realized that he was talking to himself and exited the scene of the crime before anyone walked in on him.

            He didn’t see James or the hitman when he peered around the corner.  Breathing a sigh of relief Steve scurried over to the Brain Gang desk.  Unfortunately, there was a customer waiting for him.  Steve pasted on a smile, although it was probably not his most convincing.  The woman returned the smile, revealing a completely unexpected gold incisor.  Suddenly Steve’s head was once again spinning.  This woman was very bad.  As in ‘Hello-I-Enjoy-Dismembering-People-Slowly’ bad. 

            Steve turned away, trying to hide his reaction from the woman.  Naturally, there was a leggy blonde approaching from the other direction.  And of course the aforementioned blonde turned to smile at him.  Her different colored eyes sucked him into another mental onslaught.  He staggered out of the Brain Gang kiosk and ran smack into a brick wall.  Actually, he ran into a large man who could have just as easily been a brick wall.  There was a pendant of some sort hanging at Steve’s eye-level, which happened to be somewhere around the man’s bellybutton.  This time he half-expected the visions that came barreling through his brain.  It happened four more times on his way to the staff bathroom where he fully intended to hide like a scared little boy. 

            When he finally reached the bathroom door and stumbled through, his head was pounding.  His vision was alarmingly swimmy, and he was horrified to see a trickle of blood coming from his nose.  Inside his chest, it felt like his heart was doing its best imitation of a Mexican jumping bean, while his lungs were functioning less than perfectly.  He fumbled around in his pocket for his inhaler, lifting it to his mouth with shaky hands only to drop it to the floor.  A strangled noise of frustration bubbled out of him. 

            He got down on his hands and knees, knocking his head against the sink in the process.  Cursing creatively, Steve grabbed the renegade inhaler and took a much-needed hit.  The relief was instant, but he still had a raging headache.  A warm, wet sensation alerted him to the fact that his nose had started bleeding in earnest.  With a heavy sigh, he rose and snatched a wad of toilet paper from one of the stalls which he balled up and pressed to his face.  Naturally, James picked that moment to walk in. 

            The two of them silently stared at each other for a long moment.  Steve could have sworn that the corner of James’s lip was twitching, trying to fight a smile.  But just as quickly he saw a flash of concern flit through the stormy blue eyes.  That didn’t last either; James quickly put his usual blank-verging-on-angry face back into place.  Without a word James extended a hand to help Steve to his feet.

^

            “You saw _how many_ assassins in the Tech Mecca?” Natasha slowly lowered her glass to the coffee table.

            “Um, the grand total stands at eight, I believe,” Steve said.

            Natasha pursed her lips, the skin around her eyes tightening ever so slightly.  “You told James?  About all of them?” she clarified.

            Steve nodded, rubbing his forehead absently.  His headache had lessened, but it was still lurking around the edges of his brain and behind his eyes.  “He said, and I quote, ‘Just eight?’”

            A perfectly groomed eyebrow arched towards Natasha’s hairline.  The expression made her look eerily similar to Peggy.  She mumbled something under her breath.  It was possible that he just couldn’t hear her since his hearing was crap, but he was pretty sure she was actually speaking a foreign language.  That was what he was going to go with.  “I’m calling James,” Natasha said in a dangerous voice.

            Steve tried to melt into the couch so as to avoid landing in the middle of Natasha’s warpath.  He could hear a door shutting, but he couldn’t hear any words.  His stomach growled, and Steve stared down at it like he’d just realized for the first time that it was there.  Thoughts of sandwiches started dancing through his head.  Just as he was about to go foraging in the kitchen, the front door swung open and Peggy stood silhouetted in the bright sunlight.  She hesitated when she saw Steve on the couch, but as soon as her eyes fell on the Kleenex he had affixed to his face she was hurrying to his side. 

            “Steve!  What’s wrong?” Peggy patted fretfully at his head and shoulders.

            Steve swatted her hands away, “I’m fine.  It’s just a little nosebleed.”  Both of their eyes went to the trashcan at his feet that was filled with his discarded tissues.  “Seriously, it’s no big deal.”

            Peggy looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she smiled softly at Steve and threw her things down in the armchair before heading into the kitchen.  The sound of the faucet turning on and off preceded Peggy’s return with a glass of water.  She tried in vain to hold the glass for Steve, but he snatched it away from her and held it himself. 

            “Are you sure you’re OK?” Peggy finally burst out.  “You don’t usually come home early from work.”

            Steve rolled his eyes.  He knew that Peggy had been sitting on that question for a while; she just couldn’t help herself.  “Phil didn’t want me to bleed all over the merchandise and/or frighten the customers.”  He turned a wry expression towards his sister.  As soon as they made eye contact they both dissolved into giggles. 

            “Classic Phil,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling.  Steve smiled at the sound of their long-running response to Phil’s antics. 

            There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Steve nearly fell off the couch.  He had forgotten about Natasha’s presence.  But she was standing a few feet away, holding her phone in one hand and wearing a disconcertingly friendly smile.  “Hello,” she said to Peggy.

            “Oh!  Hello there,” Peggy rushed to stand and offer her hand to shake.  “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she said glancing between Steve and Natasha.

            “Peggy, this is Natasha.  Natasha, this is my sister Peggy,” Steve waved between them, feeling a flush spread over his skin.

            “A pleasure,” Peggy said warmly as they shook hands.

            “Likewise,” Natasha giggled.  Steve froze at the sound, but it was definitely a giggle.  He was officially scared.

            Peggy gestured for Natasha to take a seat on the couch with Steve, “Can I get you anything to drink, Natasha?”

            “No, thank you.  I already helped myself.” She held up her half-full water glass.

            Peggy smiled and lowered herself back into the armchair she had been sitting in.  She looked at Steve expectantly.

            Before anyone could say anything else, Natasha’s phone beeped.  She smiled sheepishly and touched the screen.  Her smile melted away as she read, and Steve somehow knew it was James.  Sure enough, when she looked up she cast an apologetic look towards Peggy’s seat.  “I’m so sorry to cut this short, Peggy, but Steve and I have to go.  We made plans to meet a friend.”

            “Right,” Steve said too quickly.  He gingerly pulled the Kleenex away from his face and touched his nose.  Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have stopped.  “We do have those.  Plans, I mean,” he laughed nervously.  “It’s been real, Peggy.”  He cringed as soon as the front door shut behind them.

            James stepped out of the shadows, and Steve cursed under his breath.  He didn’t know which one it would be, but either Natasha or James was going to give him a heart attack.  His heart wasn’t strong enough to withstand their ninja entrances.

            “They’re here because of Stark,” James growled without preamble.

            “Not here.”  Natasha said.

            James didn’t say anything.  He simply produced a key and used it to unlock the apartment next to Peggy and Steve’s.  Steve was too shocked to say anything as Natasha herded him through the door.

            “Stark’s dead,” Natasha said as soon as they were all inside.

            “What?” Steve could hear blood rushing in his ears.  Sure, he wasn’t overly fond of Stark, but he was _dead_?

            Natasha and James exchanged a look.  “Stark was working on a top secret project.  He was building a database that held the collective intelligence of the government.  Steve, what you received was essentially the entire contents of that database.  But when he sent you that email,” she paused, “The facility where he had been working blew up less than ten seconds later.”

            “Oh,” Steve replied.  A million thoughts and questions were swirling through his mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint one to ask so he remained quiet.

            “Anyway,” James continued nonchalantly, “According to one of our new friends,” he smirked in a distinctly villainous manner. “Word on the street is that Stark sent intelligence to a contact in this zip code.  The Fat Lady didn’t know what the intelligence was supposed to be, just that some unsavory people were willing to pay handsomely for its delivery.  Mockingbird was a bit more useful.  She was tracing Steve’s phone signal.  How the hell she got that I don’t know.”

            Steve heard a crack and looked down to see the remains of his phone crushed beneath Natasha’s stiletto. 

            Natasha levelled a stony stare at him.  “How did you get this back?”

            Steve shrugged sheepishly.

            Natasha crossed her arms and glared at James and Steve in turn.  “What about the other mercs?” she asked.

            James shrugged, “I took care of them.”

            Steve tried not to dwell on the implications of that sentence.  Luckily Natasha wasn’t finished with her interrogation, “Did they have any information?”

            “Nope,” James popped the p casually.

            “So where does that leave us?” Natasha’s hands shifted to rest on her hips. “Dammit!  How did they even get ahold of any of this information?”

            Even though Steve could tell that the question had been very rhetorical, James answered, “Stark must not have just been blowing steam.”

            Natasha exhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring.  “We need to take him into protective custody.”

            Steve felt his insides freeze.  James calmly picked at a hangnail as he answered, “General says to hold off.” 

            “What?  Why would we do that?  It’s way too dangerous,” Natasha argued.

            James was unmoved by Natasha’s frustration.  He simply shrugged one shoulder, seemingly focused on his nails.  “We’ve got a lead.”

            Natasha looked like she was ready to throttle James, but her voice came out cool and steady.  “Oh really?”

            “Yup,” James once again popped the p.  “We’re supposed to take the kid to an auction tomorrow night.  That’s where they were supposed to unload the intel.”

            “And why didn’t you lead with that?” Natasha asked.

            James looked up from his nails.  “I got distracted by all your questions,” he said flatly.

            Steve cringed internally.  He could literally feel the tension coiling in Natasha’s body.  Even though James looked totally relaxed Steve could sense the readiness in his limbs, too.  “So!” he interjected in hopes of avoiding a super ninja fight. 

            The tense silence continued for another long moment before Natasha turned to Steve.  “Well it looks like we have our first official date as a couple tomorrow night.”

            “Um, what?” Steve felt himself flushing at Natasha’s words.

            “We talked about this earlier, Steve.  For cover, you and I will pose as a couple,” Natasha spoke slowly, as if Steve were stupid.

            “Um, that’s not really going to work,” Steve ducked his head.

            Natasha sighed, “I know it can be awkward at first, but I promise nobody will suspect anything.”

            “I’m pretty sure that they will be very suspicious actually,” Steve muttered.

            “What are you getting at, shortstop?” James said.

            “Steve, do you already have a girlfriend?  There wasn’t anything in our records,” Natasha frowned.

            “No, that’s not,” Steve ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  “I’m gay,” he blurted, his face flaming.

            “Oh,” Natasha said.

            James surprised them both with a rough bark of laughter.  His eyes were glinting with mirth as he smirked at Natasha who shot him a sour look.  “Not many people can leave the Black Widow speechless,” James said to Steve.

            Steve felt like he might spontaneously combust under James’s gaze.  Natasha broke the moment by fixing Steve under a pensive gaze.  Steve fidgeted, looking out the window to avoid looking either agent in the eye.

            “Well this complicates things slightly.”  Her eyes darted between Steve and James.  It took a moment for Steve to connect the dots, but he was instantly horrified when he realized what she was thinking.

            “No.”

            Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. 

            “We’re co-workers,” Steve muttered.  “It would be unprofessional.”

            “You can just be friends.”  Natasha’s eyes twinkled.

            “Oh.”  Steve felt his face flame.  “Yeah, that’s… Yeah.”

            James snorted causing Steve’s blush to deepen.  “So we’re all just a bunch of buddies now.  About time you made some friends.”

            “I have friends!” Steve said indignantly.

            “Oh right, your _boy_.”  James snickered.

            Steve crossed his arms over his chest.  “I’m leaving now.”

            “Goodnight, friend!” James called in a saccharine voice.

            Steve flipped him off over his shoulder as he retreated.


End file.
